Dragon Age: Wandering of Witches
by Barren Rose
Summary: Months after the Blight, the Warden has begun his search for his love in Morrigan while participating in a mission that is track and kill a dangerous humanoid abomination that has escaped from the clasp of the Templars.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the rights to Dragon Age: Origins or Awakenings. Those rights solely belong to the developers and writers of the game. I am merely just a fan enjoying the wonderful world in which they created. Thank you Bioware and everyone else.

**Chapter 1**

He shoved his dirtied hands into the cold mountain stream to wash away the day's work. His fingers scrubbed every crack and crease, every discolored part of skin, and every reminder of the killings that took place hours earlier. In this cleaning, a golden ring slipped off his finger and sank to the bottom. The ring glinted from the moonlight and his eyes stared at the gift, at the only thing left between him and her yet he wanted to leave it there. He wanted to free himself of these emotions that he had never felt outside of the Circle, these emotions that one of his mentors in Wynne had warned him about. He wanted to stand up and walk away, stand up and walk away from the only reason he was alive today. All these wants and regrets barged into his mind and yet he picked the ring up and slipped it on his finger. That was the end of the Warden's night, he'd go sleep in his tent alone with his other two companions still enjoying the night over a bit ale.

In the morning, The Warden, Andrus, was the first to wake. He sat on a log near his tent with a map of Ferelden across his lap. With a hand on his chin scratching through his goatee and the other hand's fingers tracing their path south along the Frostback Mountains, he plotted their way toward where the Korcari Wilds and the mountains met. There was his goal, given by both a mission and his personal desires. Though he knew his desires were, in all likelihood, not going to be met. She had no reason to be in the Wilds after all; not with the looming threat of her mother possessing her or the 'child' he was told that would come into existence.

"Up early, I see." A strong voice said from behind Andrus. "It seems the ale didn't get to ye. Hmm, perhaps I should have brought stronger drinks from Orzammar but I figured you humans wouldn't be able to handle…especially you mages."

Andrus looked his dwarf friend in Gordon. He was shirtless, showing off his dwarven great beer-bellied physique and hairy chest to go along with a long brown braided goatee. Unfortunately for Gordon, his shimmering bald head didn't have the same great follicles.

"I didn't drink last night, Gordon. I didn't feel particularly in the mood." Andrus said.

"You've been down." Gordon sat on a log across from Andrus. "I think I know why too."

"You say so?"

"Aye, my friend…you've missed the Circle! You miss all them books, and spells, and mage women. That's the problem." Gordon picked up a stick and pointed it at Andrus to imitate a wand. "Ahhh, what's a name of a spell chant thing you people do? Perhaps my spell can make for good feelings in you, friend."

"If a dwarf could have magic, I'd fear for the lives of all people in Thedas." Andrus smiled at him.

"Well hell, could you ah, repeat to me the history of the Tevinter people…or mages in particular." Gordon chuckled. "I think the world already fears your kind anyway."

"Point taken." Andrus shook his head and stared at the ground for a moment before looking at Gordon again. "I don't miss the Circle. I spent most of my life there…I think it's about time I got out and explored like I am now."

"Denerim then? The Pearl is hotspot, you miss that?"

"Heh, Immediately after The Blight, I spent three months in Denerim…politicking with Alistair and the other families. I don't miss Denerim and I'm quite certain about that. Though, The Pearl is a fun to place to spend time."

"Oh when I was in The Pearl…the things I saw and felt and did." Gordon laughed and stared up at the sky remember the good times.

Andrus sighed as he folded the map back into his backpack. Looking at the other tent that was still inhabited by the last of his group, Andrus asked, "Is she well?"

Gordon stood and shrugged as he made his way toward his tent. "She drank more than she could handle that's for sure. Was up all night holdin' her hair back, like a gentleman." Placing on his cotton shirt, he then reached and pulled up his Orzammar plate mail and fastened it on. "She's a tough one; you'd expect that from a rogue."

Andrus was at her tent now, and he slowly opened it to see her with her bare back to him. His first reaction was to turn away, but she wasn't even moving from the cold that swept into the warmth of the tent. That kept him pushing forward. Crouching into the tent, he tapped her arm. "Odette?"

A groan left her mouth and she pulled her sheet over her shoulders. "I'm never drinking that again…" Her voice was faint.

Andrus patted her shoulder remorsefully, "We must get moving…I'll give you a few more minutes but start breaking down as soon as possible."

"Ugh, the Maker…have some bloody mercy, Andrus."

He gave her a light squeeze on the shoulder for half comfort's sake. "We have a job to do."

She rolled onto her side then and watched Andrus with hooded eyes. Reaching for her sheet, she clasped at it to make sure she wasn't baring her chest to him. Her Orlesian accent slurred, "You shouldn't barge in on a woman like this…no matter how lethargic and incapacitated she may be, Warden."

"Very well, don't drink if you can't handle your ale." He left her tent to attend to his own. There he began putting his chainmail on along with his enchanted blade. Though he wanted to be patient with Odette, they didn't have the time. It was morning and the caravan was to be only a few hours walk from where they were. The caravan had been waiting for the Warden and his party for days now and that was where his obligation was first and foremost important.

When the party was finally on the path, they kept silence for the most part, only speaking when they had too. Silence made for more stealth which also assisted Odette offhandedly by keeping the stark strains of sound from making her ears bleed. The path wasn't an easy walk either; the southern portion of the mountains was riddled with steep drops and debris riddled pathways. As the altitude consistently declined breathing did fortunately become easier yet with decline came more crevices to maneuver around. The walk was taking far longer than Andrus hoped for and he cursed himself for being too patient. He felt that even though he was free from the confines of the Circle, the new bindings of being a Grey Warden now constricted him in a different fashion. That was one of his excuses for making the choice that he did, the maleficar; that and the profanity of love.

After another hour of travel, Andrus and his party could finally see the caravan's campfire smoke and ruined wagons sprawled below them. Climbing down the side of a small incline, they approached carefully. The caravan was to be made up of four wagons according to the briefing Andrus received at Orzammar but he could only see two wagons that were useable. Broken axels, wheels, and debris covered the back half of the convoy; it was quite obvious that something went viciously wrong. The scorched ground looked to have a small crater dug into it and the smell of cooked flesh still lingered in the air. There were no people around but the sound of chattering and rustling rocks echoed into Andrus' ears.

Andrus could feel the magic in the air as well; it tingled in his bones and raised the hairs on the back of his neck. Pulling out his sword, he turned to look back at Gordon and Odette and shook his head slightly as they both withdrew their weapons. Gordon gripped onto his handaxe and shield with eyes that watched the dead trees and bushes to their left. Odette spun her dual short swords in her hands before fading into the rocks and dirt. Andrus looked forward, channeling a faint aura around his body as he began taking steps toward the caravan.

"Attaaack!" A voice shouted from the mountain side.

Five men fell from the cliff side, their cloaked bodies showing themselves as the landed on the rocky ground. They began to circle the group strafing to work toward flanking the party of three but Andrus and Gordon kept their backs to each other. As the enemy rogues started their charge toward the two warriors, one of the men's chest exploded as two swords broke through him. His blood covered Odette who kicked his body off her blades; she then ran toward the other four who were engaged with the rest of her party. Andrus caught the swinging blade of one of the men with his sword and pushed the enemy away. He then spun his body around, with a fist glowing with the beginnings of a spell, and shoved a surge of electricity into the man's face. The man's scream ended as quickly as it started, his head burst in half and his body twitched to the ground. Gordon's brute strength overpowered the two rogues who tried to bout him. With his shield, he rammed the blunt edge into the knee of one of them before slapping the other off balance with the shield's face. Then, with his axe, he came down onto the off balanced rogue's collarbone, partially severing the shoulder and digging the blade into the man's chest. After he pulled the axe from the dying rogue's body, he swung the pointed end of his axe into the head of the immobilized enemy.

The last rouge disengaged from Odette as he saw his comrades drop so easily to the Warden and others. The rouge didn't look too concerned with them; instead, his eyes widened when he looked up toward the cliff side and shouted, "No! Wait please!"

Andrus, seeing everything light up with a hint of orange, slammed his hand onto the ground. A field of magic shrouded him and his party as flames roared around them; the noise of the flames pressing against his force field blared like a deep horn bellowing from the depths of the earth. Once the flames came to an end, the force field faded and Andrus collapsed to the ground. He gathered himself to his knees quickly, watching the flaming body of the rogue running frantically by his party before plummeting to the ground. Turning to look toward the cliff, he could see three mages—two of them with their hands high to cast another spell—the main one was wearing a cowl and grinning down at them.

"Spread out!" Andrus ordered.

Another blaze of flames whipped toward them. Andrus dove to his right and was thrown further by the force of the explosion behind him. The force of the blow knocked the wind out him and the crash to the ground dislodged his enchanted blade from his hands. Rolling onto his side, he glanced over the battlefield to see that Odette and Gordon had move out of the way just fine.

Gordon stuck his shield in the ground and crouched behind it, "Andrus, I don't see a route up there!"

Lifting from the ground and scampering to grab his sword, Andrus looked toward Odette who just barely dodged another shot of flames coming toward her. "Your bow Odette!"

She had already begun pulling her short bow from her back before Andrus finished. Her body disappeared into the scenery again and she was off to make another move. They were going to be tough shots, the rocks surrounding the mages made for great cover but arrows would help.

Looking back at the mages, Andrus saw as one of the mages finished his spell. The ground underneath Andrus' hands began to frost and knowing what was to come, he rolled back out of the way. Pillars of ice rose from the ground freezing everything in its midst and as he dodged the spell and got to his feet, Andrus let out a shout of frustration. They planned a smart ambush, those mages did; they kept pushing Andrus and his party, putting them on the defensive long enough to have a constant barrage of spells coming down onto them. Stepping forward, Andrus wasn't going to allow them to keep up their pace. He waited for a moment until he saw Odette's arrows fling toward the mages; this forced them to interrupt their casting by ducking behind the rocks. The main mage stood his ground though, he rose his staff into the air and casted another spell to try and rain more flames down onto Andrus. This is when Andrus made his push. Calling for another force field, he used it to block the majority of the fire, however, just before the fire would end and his mana would wane, Andrus shot a firebomb toward the mages as well. Smoke and debris filled the cliff side where the mages stood but as it cleared, the mages stood on their hill with only a bit more dirt on their clothes.

The main mage looked at his comrades and chuckled; he then looked toward Andrus and shouted, "And you are Ferelden's finest?"

Andrus stood from the ground, sheathing his sword and folding his arms across his chest. He watched the mages with a grin, just as the cowled one had done him earlier. The ground began to rumble, and the mages on top of the cliff were engulfed by the ground as it collapsed and swallowed them in its rocks as it all came crashing down to the ground many feet below.

Dropping his arms to his sides, Andrus let out a long sigh. Odette and Gordon were already checking the rubble to make sure that the mages were indeed dead; they were a smart two to have with him and Andrus was please to have them on his side. Now, he quickly moved toward the two wagons that were still in tack because, even though those mages seemed to be very dead, he could still feel magic in the air. Standing near the first wagon, he placed his hands on the wagon bed but even though the feeling was far stronger than just a few steps ago, he knew it wasn't coming from the wagon near him.

"Andrus, what are you doing?" Odette asked, as she stood onto of the rubble with her hands on her hips.

He glanced at her and shrugged, "Just checking for the wagons for papers. It's obvious the prisoners escaped since we must have just killed them." He lied but she didn't need to know his true reasoning.

Taking his steps toward the lead wagon, Andrus listened to Gordon speak. "They must have just killed the guards recently. We only came to assist them with the transport since their Templars had suddenly become ill."

Once he was close to the lead wagon, he could feel the magic pulsating from it. Its strong presence began giving Andrus a headache but he fought forward. Touching the wagon bed, his hands went cold and numb from the power; he now knew that whatever was inside was something far more powerful than anything he'd encountered recently. It's aura was cold, withdrawn, and dark—it felt as if it he were surrounded by hundreds of sullen abominated souls. Its sadness made him grit his teeth as he wanted to pull away but he knew he couldn't, this was his mission.

Lifting the covering, he peered inside and saw a silhouette of a humanly figure sitting in the far end. Its head was down and it was rocking to and fro whispering incoherent nothings to itself. Its hair hung down to the wagon bed floor and it smelled like the vials of Darkspawn blood he had to carry to Duncan that long while ago.

He couldn't speak or move; his mind tried to put together what to do but he couldn't think right. Andrus was suddenly beginning to feel lightheaded and his muscles were slowly giving out but he could see the world around him fading and becoming dimmer. "No…" He forced those words from his mouth and the being reacted.

The head of the creature snapped upward staring at Andrus with eyes as white as the moon. Immediately, his sight of the real world was diminishing into the twisted structures of the Fade as it formed around him. Piece by piece, he could see the real world leaving; he could see himself leaving his body as he slipped away from what he knew he had control of.

"Is this truly how you have decided to end it?" A familiar voice spoke to him. "By falling to the trap of an old wench…apostate…like this. You handled my mother far better than this I must say."

Andrus' eyes widened as he heard Morrigan's voice.

"You can't speak, can you?" She sighed. "Tis probably best that is the case. Andrus, the wench is trying to trap you in the Fade. You are being pulled into the other world now but, thankfully for us, you are an arcane warrior and it is taking longer than she would like."

Andrus turned his head toward the shady figure that held the same shape as Morrigan and as it got closer, he could see that it was indeed her.

She placed her hands on his shoulders and stood him upright since he was floating in the shifting realities. Turning her head and removing one of her hands from his shoulders, she looked toward the image of the wagon that was still there and pointed at it. "Force yourself back into our world, do not disappoint me by being so weak…I'll need you to stay strong, Warden."

Andrus never looked away from her, even as she pointed toward his exit and he knew she could feel him watching her. After a moment, she did look up at him with a slightly concerned yet pissed off look on her face, "Go Andrus!"

Pausing, she shook her head and placed her free hand on his cheek and stared into his eyes, "Go." She ordered; her hands slowly slipped from his body as she began fading away as well.

With her leaving him, he broke toward the shrinking image of the wagon. Jumping through, he saw his own body lying on the ground and he fell into it. Immediately, he felt the weight of the real world back onto his body and he began gasping for air. Gordon held him down and Odette held a canteen to his mouth when he needed it.

"Breathe Andrus." Odette pleaded.

Focusing his eyes on the world around him, he glanced at Odette then to Gordon but in the corner of his eye he noticed a small black bird perched on the top of a wagon. Turning his head to look at it, he realized that it was a black crow looking down at him. Lifting his hand to reach for it, it flew away into the blinding light his eyes weren't yet ready to adjust to. Closing his eyes, he sighed because Morrigan had saved his life again and because he could feel that the magical feeling from the creature in the wagon was gone. Both of his goals continued to elude him, both continued to run and he knew that he was going to keep chasing, no matter how much he wanted to turn away.

* * *

**Chapter 2 preview**: The mission is now clear to Andrus, the special package being shipped to the southern prison of Ferelden is the woman he encountered in the wagon. That woman is now gone, and he has to begin the journey on finding out where she is while searching for Morrigan at the same time.

**A/N**: Hope you all enjoyed it! Was and am a bit worried about the Morrigan dialogue since she is a very particular character; I tried to stay as true as possible to what I think she might say. Also, there will be a few appearances of old DA: Origins favorites since this story is taking place before DA: Awakenings (since I haven't played that yet). I also hope Andrus is coming off like I'd like…please give me your opinion on him as the story goes to see if my idea of him is working as well. Thank you all for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

A week passed since the caravan incident and Andrus was finally feeling nearly as well as he did before the meeting with the being. They were just outside Redcliffe, in a small burlesque house called The Lilac Silk at the urging of Gordon. There, inside, they all waited for the Redcliffe guards to meet them for a debriefing of what was next since the creature escaped.

"You never thought to warn us about the dangers you felt from that…creature?" Odette asked with a glare.

Andrus didn't answer immediately; he frowned, took a sip of his mead then sighed from the light burn. "…"

"Well?" Odette chided.

"If I told either you or Gordon, the results would have been the same." He answered in plain tone.

"And how do you know that as truth?"

"It nearly killed me and it escaped without being seen."

Rolling her eyes, Odette said, "Grey Wardens die just like the rest of us; be it abominations, Darkspawn, humans, dragons…a forest creature, they kill us all the same."

"I didn't say what I did in a means to belittle."

"Then what were the means?"

"To simply tell the truth. I've never felt that sort of power before." He lounged back in his chair with eyes staring at his hand on the table; his fingers were still numb and tingling at the tips. "The emotion in the magic was…strange."

"Thus, as I said, you put us in danger because you felt the oddity of it wasn't worth telling us from the beginning?" Odette let out a frustrated sigh. "Andrus, if I am to work with you, there must be transparency between all of us."

He chuckled at the rogue then leaned forward and clasped his pint tightly in his hands. "Transparency…"

"Yes, it is only fair."

Grinning again, Andrus lifted the mead to his lips and began downing the half full pint. It dripped down his cheek and into his goatee; when he finished, he slammed the pint to the table.

They stared at each other for a moment. She glared and he grinned at the anger since it was too ironic.

Leaning back again, Andrus spoke, "Very well, there will be transparency. This new 'rule' brings me to ask you a question."

"What?" Odette folded one leg over.

"Why were you so eager to join me? You are a young Orlesian and you said you felt as if this was an opportunity you couldn't dare pass but, why?"

"What does my youth have anything to do with this? You too are fairly young Andrus." She said.

"Answer my question first."

"Perhaps you are bothered with _my_ kind because of the assassin and former spy you had in your party during The Blight. Is that it?"

"That is not an answer, Odette. However, I will tell you that I am asking because I like to know who I am working with." Andrus grinned.

Her eyes moved away from the Warden to stare down and she shifted her legs while folding her arms across her chest. Her mouth opened for a brief second before closing as if she couldn't put the words together to reply. Andrus found this to be intriguing and he chuckled, "I realize, after The Blight and after months of being…'free' from the Circle, that perhaps I wasn't ready to become a Warden. I'm still not ready."

"Why do you say that?" She watched Andrus again.

"Imagine living how I lived for the majority of my life. I was in a tower, secluded and ultimately alone. It was like living in a prison that taught you how to not kill everyone in sight like I almost did at six."

"It seems pitiful."

"Yes and no. It was a good thing for me since I was a child who couldn't control his powers but when you get older, change is needed. Thus, when the opportunity came to leave, I jumped at it and I didn't desire to look back." Andrus shrugged and continued, "The social aspects of living outside of the Circle with people who aren't Templars and mages…tis interesting. It isn't much better, especially with my duties of a Warden. Conversations have been good at times but I find myself constantly fighting and arguing and debating on decisions that hold so many lives at stake. A king was made with my influence…if that isn't power I don't know what else is."

"While you ascended to such a grand status, I only found myself falling." Odette went silent; her eyes shifted to look at Gordon who was surrounded by three human women. The corner of her lip turned up at the sight in disgust before she returned to look at Andrus.

"Whorehouses don't suit you well." Andrus noted.

"They are the bane of my existence." Odette replied.

"I take the reason stems far deeper than sexual promiscuity."

"Have you ever been in love, Andrus?" As Odette linked her eyes to his with the question, Andrus immediately looked down.

He laughed and stood from the table holding his empty pint, "Would you like a drink?"

"No."

"I'll get you a good pint of mead." Walking away, he went to the bar where the tender frowned upon him approaching. He'd been giving Andrus a concerned look all of the time they were in the bar it seemed. Placing the pint on the bar, he raised a finger and said, "Would like another pint of mead for my friend at the table…make mine strong ale."

The tender nodded to Andrus, but he didn't keep his eyes on the Warden for too long. Working to make the drinks, the tender made sure to quickly have the two on the bar only moments later.

Placing two gold coins on the counter, Andrus commented, "I'm tipping you well just to see a smile slip on your face, friend."

The tender took the coin and finally spoke, "We are a small establishment, sir and from my time here, I've noticed that your kind only bring trouble."

Andrus sucked teeth and glanced around the bar to see if anything strange was indeed watching. After a moment of seeing the typical bar drunks and whore guards, he looked back at the tender and disregarded his concerns, "You will be fine friend and you better get use to trouble in a place like this."

Returning to their table, Odette still kept her closed posture and only stared at the mead as he placed it in front of her. Andrus sat and sipped his ale, this time the burn was stronger and he sighed loudly with another chuckle.

"You seem to find a lot humorous." Odette said reaching for her mead and sipping it.

"I just enjoy life, all is worth smiling about." Andrus took another sip.

"I assume this comes killing so many?"

He simply shrugged and took another sip of his ale.

Odette sipped her mead and rested her other arm limply on the table, her eyes watched his own as she drank; Andrus rose a brow at the stare.

"That one mage…" She said as she set the mead down and continued, "The one that disappeared after The Blight was over…it's her isn't it?"

"If it was her, why would she disappear?" Andrus tried to smartly reply.

"I heard she was a maleficar. I feel that is reason enough."

Andrus thought over the term maleficar. He thought about how that word immediately put so many generalization into one's mind about who an individual was and he remembered everyone's warnings in the past. Finally, after another sip of ale, he replied, "Not all are evil."

"None can be trusted."

Nodding at the answer though he disagreed, he sipped his ale again then looked toward the door as two armed men entered. "Finally here."

He stood and greeted the two men with a hand shake.

They were Redcliffe guards; Arl Eamon's coat of arms was proudly engraved into their armor. With Redcliffe only a short walk away, there was no surprise that they came instead of the Templars.

"Good to see that you are well. We received your report on the prison escort and we are very sorry that the circumstances turned rather grim." The guard turned and motioned toward the exit. "Would you come with us Warden, there is a package for you and also Sire Roland is waiting to debrief you."

Following the guards, Odette and Andrus went along with them outside—Gordon was in the back now doing whatever with the women from earlier. Once outside, Andrus noticed the Templar Roland shaking his head at the barely dressed women who sat on the Lilac Silk's porch. The Templar turned to the two other Templar and said, "Is there not a law against such a public display of this sort of behavior?"

Raising a brow, Andrus could only imagine what this Templar must have thought of him. Coming out of a whorehouse to deal with official matters wouldn't look at all decent—not to mention he is a mage. "Good day, Sir Roland I'm assuming?"

The Templar slowly turned his head to watch Andrus with glaring eyes. Facing the mage now, Roland simply nodded. "Warden, the situation you left in the south is a very dangerous one. Now, though I feel that it is somewhat unfortunate that we are leaving this matter in the hands of someone with your pass record, you are truly the only one who can do this."

Andrus gritted his teeth; he knew the Templar was speaking about his encounters with Jowan but that was the pass. "Have there been any updates?"

Roland pointed toward a wagon behind him, "You've received a package from an anonymous donor…this arrived at Redcliffe three weeks ago just when you were setting off from Orzammar."

Andrus only briefly glanced at the large box in the wagon before looking back at the Templar, "Yes, but what of the situation? Have we any idea of what that thing was?"

Roland sighed and motioned Andrus to follow him, "Come with me, Warden."

Looking back to Odette, Andrus asked her to wait there before he went along with the Templar.

They slowly paced along the perimeter of the whorehouse and Roland spoke, "We believe that the woman you saw in the wagon was the living sister of a group of Maleficar we've been searching for; the Sated Sisters. In the northern region of Ferelden from Amaranthine to the Frostback Mountains, there have been reports of men, women, and children being sucked dry til they were nothing more than skin and bone."

Andrus folded his arms across his chest and watched the ground as they walked, "Why is there only one living?"

Roland shook his head, "We killed the eldest; before the blight, we sent a team of men there to search for these women; one of the men returned with her head."

"How did we seemingly capture the other sister in the prison escort?"

"We didn't…but the head of the sister was traveling to Garridon's Keep to have displayed for all the criminals to witness the power of the Templar and common law enforcement."

"There was no head in the wagon…" Andrus remembered as he stroked his chin thinking over the encounter.

"I have a theory." Roland stopped walking and faced Andrus. "As you said in the report, the being, she was emaciated…sickly looking correct?"

Andrus nodded, "To the best of what I could see, yes."

"In all of the documentation we've held, the sisters always appeared to be in good health; one just looked a bit older than the other. One was blond, the other brunette. The blond had eyes black as the middle of the night while the brunette had eyes white as milk but the brunette use to have black eyes as well when the third sister was living."

"There was a third…"

"Yes. The third is certainly dead because, unlike the other two, she didn't have magic. I think when the eldest sister is dying or dead, the next in line loses their health. The two magical sisters were trying to prolong the life of their eldest sister for they could continue living in a fairly youthful state. They killed youthful civilians to take away their life energy, made a potion for their normal sister."

"Since that sister is now dead, why are they still killing?"

"That is what confuses me; perhaps it's become so much of their nature they have to continue on with it."

"Where do we begin?" Andrus asked.

"In the past week, a family of three in the farming district south of here was found dead…all of them nothing more than skin and bones." Roland swallowed. "We believe that sister is still here."

"What happened to the soldier that brought the head of the sister to the Templars? I would think revenge could be in store…"

"That man is my brother."

Dropping his arms to his side, Andrus looked away from Roland and toward the forest to their left. "Where is he?"

"His farm was only a five miles away from where the incident happened…he found the family. Now, he is in Redcliffe under constant watch."

"Good, my crew and I will stay in Redcliffe for the week just in case an attack happens." Andrus nodded at the idea, "Hopefully, this sister is as vengeful as we think."

With that, the meeting was over and now was time to find out what was waiting for in the package. As soon as he came around the corner to the front of the whorehouse, Odette ran up to him to walk by his side.

"Well?" She asked.

"Human eating maleficar…sisters…want to stay youthful forever and we have reason to believe that the living one is a vengeful soul. We'll be here in Redcliffe for a week or two unless something happens sooner than later." Andrus quickly explained as he reached the wagon. Grabbing the iron latches on the wooden frame, he popped the box open. Hay and cotton flew into the air from the force of the pop and in between the cushioning Andrus was surprised to see a light mail set of armor.

Odette looked at him, "Smells like Orlesian leather is in it too."

Reaching down into the box, he grabbed a note that been left inside. It read:

_Dear Andrus,_

_It has been sometime since we last saw each other from the Blight and even though we've been apart, I've heard much about you. People in Orlais are highly pleased to see that the Grey Wardens are finally gaining the respect they deserve in Ferelden. Because of both you and Alistair, we are starting to think that perhaps the people of Ferelden will become more accepting of all the various individuals that live in Thedas._

_Morrigan came to me a month ago, she asked me to have friends of mine make a set of armor for you. She handed me enchanted furs and gems to smelt into the bits dragon bone she'd somehow collected. While she never explained to me why you would need this, I can only imagine you will be facing dangers in the future. I wish you good luck, and I ask of you to always remember my song though I hope to see you again soon my good friend. This armor is a testament of my friendship just as much as it is a testament to whatever feelings you and Morrigan share._

_With great appreciation,_

_-Lelianna_

The night had come after a lengthy day of strategizing about how to approach the creature when it did appear. Andrus had not spent any more time lounging as he did in the bar for the rest of the day; all of his time was spent marching to and through Redcliffe to give orders of preparation. As a result, Andrus welcomed sleep. He lay in the Inn bed without the weight armor on his shoulders and without the weight of every person's expectation blaring into his ears. The great Grey Warden loved the calm, and enjoyed the new suit given to him by his friend and his former lover; though, he wasn't quite ready to wear it. It was too good to be true since the person pushing for him to wear the mail was indeed Morrigan; maybe it was just a stronger tool to track him by. Regardless, Andrus closed his eyes and began to slip into a welcome slumber.

An hour passed and his fingers began to tingle and numb again. His room was swept by a fierce cold that reminded him of the many treks made through the Frostback Mountain Pass. The smell was of death, decaying flesh and blood. His eyes opened and above him he could see with the help of the moonlight pale blond hair hanging from the shape of a woman adorned with feathers.

"Warden of the doomed, Warden of treason, Warden of lies…I am no different than you. I kill to survive as you do and yet I do not sacrifice my duties for love. You, you have no right to judge me or my sisters, you have no right to stand and try to take my life." The voice was sounded of silk worn by a woman recently hung and it echoed every phrase with that of a fainter older voice.

Andrus didn't move from his place, he simply stared fearing nothing as it watched him in bed. After a moment, he sat up but just as he blinked, the woman was gone. Screams shouted from the streets, and through his window and into the room.

"They have died! Died! Maker have mercy!" They called.

The beast had struck.

* * *

**Ch 3**: What is a battle if the enemy has already won? This creature calls for vengeance since they do not understand its livelihood. It lives on human flesh and it ask for life just as quickly as it will take it away. Forbidden arts used to keep life, to survive. Is it a beast or being? It is simply a maleficar.

* * *

**A/N**: Ch 2 is up fairly quickly. I'll probably work on Ch 3 this week and it might be out soon as well; since its summer I have a lot of time on my hands. Hope you guys enjoy it!


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Nearly a year gone since the Blight, and though the evils of the world were grasping at the Warden's neck, his mind never dwelled to far from her. As he strapped on the suit she'd requested for him, he thought about the times where being a Warden didn't seem as lonely. Memories brought him to the campsite. Alistair stood in front Andrus seeking console for the confusion his bloodline brought to the party and though Andrus tried to put forth good words, he couldn't help but notice Morrigan watching. She'd been watching him since they met in the wilds and he didn't mind, he enjoyed her gaze.

"Are you even listening to me?" Alistair asked with narrowed eyes.

"I am, I am…you shouldn't be too concerned. You are a warden just as much as you are heir to the throne. Since this is a Blight, being a warden is far more important. If we fail, there will be no kingdom to be king of." Andrus placed his hand on Alistair's shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. "You understand this far more than I do."

Alistair didn't bite. He glanced behind him to look at Morrigan who gave them a brief wave, before looking back to Andrus. "Don't fall for her tricks, Andrus. She'll give you googly eyes but it's for her own wicked cause. She can't be trusted." Alistair moved Andrus' hand from his shoulder and continued, "You don't know what she is thinking…she may cook you alive for all we know!"

"I feel comfortable saying that I can defend myself if that were the case," Andrus paused, "I don't believe she will." He walked away from Alistair toward his tent to take off his cowl.

There, he sat in the entrance way with eyes focused on the fire while listening to Lelianna hum a tune like she always did. He watched his party shut down for the night, Alistair moved into his tent, Sten made himself comfortable meditating on the edge of the small incline, Wynne had long since retired to her quarters and even Zevran was laying on the hill staring at the stars above them probably thinking of Antiva. Lelianna still hummed though it grew fainter until it eventually stopped.

"She seems a bit saddened that you didn't visit her tonight, Warden." Lelianna said masked by the flames that were in between them.

"No, Morrigan would not allow that."

Lelianna chuckled, "There was an old story in Orlais about a woman who lived her entire life without love. This woman also made some of the most wonderfully tasting wines in all the country. It was said that, if you and your lover were to drink this wine upon for every anniversary then your love would surely stay true. However, the woman felt as if it would cause her too much pain and heart ache if she allowed herself to open up to anyone. She believed that she could get satisfaction with only watching the others around her find love from her wine. Then as she grew older and saw the children and grandchildren of the couples she helped form enjoy their lives, she thought that perhaps finding love and having a family would be worth all the pains that come with. Unfortunately, it was too late, she was already old and her beauty had faded with time. She never found that love because she let it pass her by."

"Morrigan doesn't make wines," Andrus joked.

"Silly, don't ignore the point. Morrigan is too selfish to simply not allow herself to experience love, whereas the woman in the story suffered from her selfless nature. She is also very innocent. Though she won't admit to it, I think that her time spent in the wilds alone left her with a curiosity about our world that she is very eager to quench." Lelianna went silent for a moment and Andrus could hear her rustling with her sheets. A yawn came from her but she continued, "It would not surprise me to find out that Flemeth stripped her of these ideas because it could potentially make her daughter, weak."

Andrus stared at the flames as he thought over what Lelianna said. It seemed quite plausible for that to be the case since he always got the feeling Morrigan's act was only partially true. For being as independent as she stated she was, Morrigan did indeed live off of her mother like a small pup.

Rustling came from Lelianna's tent once more and she spoke in a tired voice, "Don't be afraid to pursue her, Andrus. The acts of love are filled with many lessons…perhaps you both need them."

He nodded at Lelianna's words and after a few moments of silence, Andrus stood from his tent and turned to look behind him for Morrigan. He could see her there, lounging and staring at fire just as he had been. He sighed as he lead himself toward her, his mind spinning with all the excuses he could make to speak to her; those excuses slipped from him as he saw her stand from her tent to greet him. Once he finally made it there, his hands moved behind his back and he bashfully stood before her.

Morrigan corked a brow, grinned and slightly tilted her head, "Yes?"

"I was just coming to see how you have been."

"I am well."

"I am sorry I did not come sooner."

Morrigan shook her slightly, "There is no need to be sorry. I heard Alistair and what he thinks. Thankfully, you do have the ability to think on your own."

Andrus smiled, "What do you think about it? His bloodline and what that may all mean for the future."

Morrigan shifted her weight onto one leg and folded her arms, "I honestly don't care much about it. He will go to be king of a stupid civilization, such as the Fereldens are, and it is fitting."

"I imagine that, once this Blight is over and peace has returned, I'll be assisting him with matters. I cannot see it to be any other way."

She chuckled and thought over what he said, "You would do Alistair a great favor by being by his side. Only then can I imagine that kingdom being run in a fairly reasonable manner.

Andrus smiled and took a step toward her to close the space in between, "You honestly believe I could bring forth that sort of influence?"

Morrigan's grin grew as she saw him get closer. She must have felt that it was good to see that, even with his comrades disagreeing about them, he still felt the need to chase her. Her voice lightened as she answered, "Yes, you have been quite capable in our time already, Andrus. Your decisions are fair, and with a bias that isn't meant to stagger traditions of the past that are unfortunately being forgotten."

Now, Andrus and Morrigan were only a foot apart. Both gazed at one another and both didn't hide the feelings and impulses that were urging to go forth. These urges softened Andrus' tone to sound like velvet as he said, "Losing traditions would have me lose you. I do not believe I would be well if that were to happen. Traditions have led me to something far different from what I accustom to…something far wilder and alluring than anything I have come to know in this world."

His voice faded toward the end of his words as their lips nearly touched. He could feel her breathing quickly in anticipation as much as he could feel his heart pounding in his chest. They wanted each other and with the warmth of their lips finally locking together, their hands and arms wrapped around the gift they considered each to be. His eyes were closed as he felt a body he desired equally embracing him; it was a moment of peace and a moment where all seemed clear. Morrigan was who he felt sincere for and Morrigan was who he felt could help him understand this world far beyond Circle magic.

* * *

His eyes opened from the memory to see himself standing in front of the mirror in the bed room. Screaming still reached to him from outside; its cacophonous chimes heeded warning of the doom waiting but Andrus had to go; the duty of being a Grey Warden forced him to protect and serve those incapable of doing so. He knew he failed already—the smell of the blood was strong inside yet he had to go for the sake of Redcliffe.

His shaking fingers pulled the leather hood over his head and he left the room to head into the hall of the Inn. The passage way was dim, for the length of the stretch only two fires were lit, small sections of the hall bared little light. In the rooms, all of the occupants were no longer there, their belongings were scattered on the floor and bed; family portraits, expensive Orlesian clothing, gold, all of these items lay on the floor in room after room looking as if they'd all been abandoned. Items were thrown about and unkempt; in only an hour of sleep, the inn had changed into a mess and Andrus could not figure why. He was sleeping well for such a short time until the beast woke him, there was no other noise and yet it looked as if horrors had come.

When he reached the end of the corridor, the door leading into the main room would not budge. He pressed against it turning the knob as he did but still it would not budge. There was weight against ever push Andrus made, something was surely bonding the door shut but he wouldn't allow it to stop him. The damn creature was playing ridiculous games with him and as anger filled his body he stepped away from the barricade. Raising his hand, Andrus shot flames onto the door blasting it back to finally get through to the other side. However, as the smell of burning flesh hit him, he covered his nose and glared at what was waiting for him.

Corpses. Skinless bodies marred the floors and walls and they burned from Andrus' spell; they burned and left their callous stench in his clothes as he walked through the bloodied mess. He wanted to get out of their quickly, but with the floor riddled with congealed blood every step he took was made unstable. He had to take his time toward the door; he had to walk through with all the eyes of the dead staring back at him in every corner.

Upon reaching the exit and opening it, outside greeted him with the same grim circumstances. A few Templars fought over the dead bodies of their comrades, fighting undead skeletons while black beast hovered above in the air. The beast flew over like dead harpies with their bones showing through their skin and with their white teeth gleaming from their black frames. Occasionally, one would swoop down and clasp a dying fighter into its large talons and drag the near dead warrior into the air. There, the other black harpies would begin ripping the warrior apart in the sky showering all below in blood. They were nearly invisible in the scene of night, their white orbs for eyes and teeth gave away their positions but their bodies camouflaged well within the darkened sky.

Andrus unsheathed his sword and swallowed the lump that collected in his throat. His hand squeezed the handle of his blade as he took his first steps toward the battlefield. The flames, the blood, the screams, they reminded him of the final battle in The Blight. The pain and anguish that he and his allies overcame to destroy the evil that wished to gorge on their world; it all came back. The adrenaline flushed through his body and he felt himself suddenly charging toward the undead fiends with eyes that lusted for blood.

The skeletal monsters hunched ahead of him spinning their blades and axes within their decay ridden fingers. Horde after horde, the beasts numbers were four times that of Andrus and the Templars and their reckless tactics sent them charging in another wave toward the humans. Their bones clattered like war drums rattling as rusted mails and armors scraped against old bone. The horrid sounds of death resonated with sinister intent for the humans were hearing to song of death pulsate through them from ground and air.

The cackling in the sky and howls from dying brethren sent the Templars to stepping back away from the charging menaces. Andrus took his place at the head of the four Templar behind him—none of which he personally spoke to during preparation. Kneeling, he picked up a mace from a fallen foe and strapped it on his waist. His eyes never left the monsters as he spoke, "The wench brings forth the undead to try and rid us of our lives."

He turned to look at the Templar behind him; their eyes all watched the approaching foes and the harpies that flew above. Their fear only fueled Andrus with anger, "There is no honor in fear! If you are to die, die with a grin in memory of the filth you destroyed this night!"

With his words done, Andrus turned to look at the enemy and his battle cry ripped through their deathly drums. His sword shot upwards toward the sky lighting it a glorious sheen of orange. Black harpies were now struggling balls of fire as many came crashing down to the bloodied soil below and Andrus charged through it. He charged with his men behind him running toward their fate with the sky raining fire and he struck the second blow onto the beast with his sword as forces clashed.

The battle was horrendous. Outnumbered as they were, it seemed that for every two monsters Andrus and his men would kill, three more would appear. They swung down on Andrus as he maneuvered to dodge blow after blow. They used their boney frames to cut through the soft spots on armor to slow the speed of the human combatants. They aimed to kill as gruesomely as they could, one Templar faced a mace to skull and a two swords to his chest as they felled him. The brutal beast coated their blades in the blood the fallen and struck again and again on the smaller group the Warden commanded.

If victory where to come for Andrus, he needed to make a move now. The mace he grabbed smashed into the head of a skeleton that charged at his way and with that closest foe gone, Andrus searched the battlefield. Scanning rooftop to rooftop he hoped to see some of the archers they planned for to be there but nothing. Again, once another beast was close, Andrus shot a fist stone from the ground to break the beast to pieces. With the creature's bones leaving a miasma behind, Andrus broke through the cloud to look back toward the Castle. There, he saw relief. A troupe of thirty archers and warriors were charging toward the battle with the jolly Gordon leading the way.

Arrows rained down from the black sky to drop beast quickly and bring relief to the constant barrage of attack Andrus' small force took. They Arl's men joined in line with the remaining few Templar and charged their bodies full with power as the next wave came upon them. Andrus tried to join them but Gordon turned his friend around to inform him, "You need to get to estate immediately, Andrus. Roland is there, but he is gravely wounded. They've said that the house his brother was staying in was a massacre…and Odette she was there."

"You handle things here, Gordon." Andrus said as he bolted toward the estate down in the town of Redcliffe.

Once there, the sounds of death faded into a daunting silence that stopped Andrus in his tracks. The civilians were alive here; they glanced out of their windows to check on the happenings outside since flames where in the distance. It seemed as if the wretched maleficar left this area alone for a reason the Warden didn't understand. He continued toward the house carefully since he didn't trust the calm of it all; the tingling had returned and his fingers were numb. As he almost reached the door, the smell of blood greeted him; he pushed through and opened the door where he was met with darkness and the stench of death.

There was a fire in the back His first step into the home sunk into a moist mess of thickened liquids. He cringed at the feeling and the smell that rose from the ground but continued treading.

The door closed behind him and the dim flame in the distance grew as the wind fed it briefly. With the light that it gave, Andrus saw a wolf standing on a table with its vermilion eyes staring back at him. Its face and entire underbelly was stained with blood.

The view was nothing more than a flash, darkness engulfed the room again and now a silhouette of the pale haired woman came into focus. The cold that shifted into the room chilled the fevered Andrus; he began to shiver and he stretched his fingers to fight the numbness.

"Tis only a fraction of my power, mage." The sullen demonic voice echoed.

"You need to die," Andrus replied.

"Thou cannit kill me…thou could not handle the force outside." The wench laughed, "Thou hath allowed great power to reign in blood."

The torches that were not covered in blood lit the room. He could see her now perfectly for the first time; her eyes were black holes and her face was wore white war paint. Two strips of black markings ran from her scalp to her jaw each connecting with either eye. On her waist underneath her pauldrons of black crow feathers was the decayed head of her sister; the eyes closed, the mouth open. The staff in her hand was a foot taller than her and nearly as tall as he; it too held black feathers along the blunt mace like end. Hair hung from underneath the feathers, flowing to her hand that was half way down on the rod.

Her head turned cautiously to watch the Warden. She seemed just as surprised as he did about the flames returning and fist clasped her staff in preparation. "Thine friend is here. She hath lurked amongst us for some time now."

Andrus unconsciously took an angered step toward the witch. She laughed in response.

"Thine companion comes." She informed.

Lunging in the air, the wolf struck the witch with black feathers bursting onto the canine. Some sunk into the wolf's fur like leeches, latching into skin to suck at blood. The witch's monotonous laughter erupted from the attack, "Thine mother is not proud of thou."

Breaking from her wolf form, Morrigan swapped away at the pest while knee deep in the pool of blood. Groaning as she pulled a few from her body, Morrigan stopped to see the sister stalking toward her. The teeth of the woman looked like a million sharpened daggers ready to slice its victim and Morrigan scoffed at the wench. Just as she expected, Andrus came dining room to striking the wench in the face with his gauntlet. The force of his arcane powered blow sent the witch smashing against the hallway all and he quickly came again with another but it missed.

As wood cracked around his fist, he watched the witch as she quickly casted a spell. The blood on the ground began to engulf Andrus sucking him into the ground. Morrigan quickly froze the blood around Andrus to stop it just below the knee. As soon as she looked back toward the sister, another swarm of black feathers came her way; she rolled her shoulders to dodge the attack but as soon as that passed, a spike made of hardened blood soared after her head. It slit Morrigan's cheek just below the ear.

Morrigan knew exactly what the bitch had done to her; the wench cut her face and Morrigan was in never one to let that pass. Her hands swung from her waist, gathering the blood on the ground to wrap it in flames; the shape was of an archdemon. It burned through the air toward the witch and when it seemly made contact, the entire right portion of the hall exploded.

"It missed but, of course, Willow has gone…" Morrigan said.

Andrus was impressed with the spell that Morrigan casted; he could still feel the heat burning on his skin. "What was that?"

Morrigan approached Andrus and slapped him across the face, "Do not hold back with her Andrus. This is not going to be an easy battle. If were truly one sister we were facing then yes, I wouldn't mind it if you took foolish punches at your target. However, she has both sisters on her."

Andrus didn't rub his red cheek, he watched her, "Is that how you wish to greet me?"

Morrigan briskly walked away from him, "The girl is in the back room, she isn't doing well."

What may have been love gave way to duty; the warden turned away from Morrigan not knowing whether or not he'd see again after this to tend to his comrade. The decision ignored their past, ignored her ring and the way they kissed because he felt she'd leave him anyway. He pushed the backroom door open and there, holding two dead children in her arms lay Odette. She was covered in blood with her half open even though she seemed to be unconscious. The entirety of the brother's family was here, dead, sliced open and ruined from the inside. Their organs garnered the floor and the smell of human feces and rot was now all too familiar for Andrus. He moved away the gaunt and emaciated bodies of the children from Odette's hands and lifted her into his arms.

Her head rest on his chest and she reached up to hold onto his shoulder and muttered, "The two wolves…"

Andrus glanced at her, "Rest, don't speak now."

* * *

The Battle had been won, the skeleton horde was defeated and the town was in peace for the moment. In the castle, the royal infirmary tended to peasant and high officers. Andrus walked amongst them, shirtless with only gauze and medical wrappings covering his abdomen and right chest and shoulder. Bruises marked his forearms and knuckles, but those wounds compared not to the missing limbs and burns the others face. Elves tended to what was considered the higher being, hoping to give them greater health though didn't need to. The social boundaries here blurred but tragedy does such; perhaps, that what good suffering can bring.

Leaving the infirmary, Gordon leaned against the wall just outside. He looked to the Warden with worried eyes, "What have you heard?"

"She'll be fine. Willow didn't kill her like the others but I don't know why," Andrus continued toward his room, Gordon followed.

"What of the injuries?"

"Much blood has been but she can recover; it seems as if she was devoured by leeches and dissected strangely along her forearm." Andrus turned to Gordon, gesturing the way the slits were, "They made strange patterns…things I hadn't seen before, not even in the Circle books."

"The damned beast must have tried a ritual with her." Gordon noted.

"We think, Odette was placed into the fade," Andrus' voices faded.

"So we don't truly know what happened." Gordon shook his head at the occurrence. A low growl lifted from him, "Damn mages…"

"I will stop this," Andrus promised as they approached his room. He turned to Gordon and tightly gripped onto his shoulder; his fist aggressively lifted toward Gordon's face. "A mage will stop this insanity as quickly as one started it. Do not damn us, Gordon."

His fist was knocked away as Gordon pushed Andrus back; his chest stuck out and he stared up at the taller human, "Then stop it and prove me wrong but never threaten me again like that. Warden or not I will chop your head off just like any other."

Andrus half grinned at his comrade, "You are a tough one, Gordon." He knew that he was picking fights with the wrong people now that she appeared again. So many things he wanted to tell her but of course, she'd gone away to wherever it was she skulked. "Don't mind me…I am a bit angered with all that's happened."

Gordon watched Andrus open the door to his room, "I will kill you the next time you do that."

Andrus chuckled knowing that a dwarf was never going to back down from a challenge and yet, he didn't feel like it was right to keep this skirmish going, "Good night, Gordon."

"Ah hell…"

The door closed, shutting the dwarf friend outside. His steps stuttered but he kept his footing, the fireplace was blazing beautifully and yet he wanted to kill it. He wanted to just simply rest but again, a languid sigh slipped from his mouth as he leaned against the back of the large chair facing the flames; underneath him, as he knew, sat Morrigan sipping a cup of tea.

"Glad to see that is over, for now." Morrigan grinned as she took another sip.

"Why are you not running from me?"

"My legs are tired tis all."

Andrus pushed himself from the back of the chair to walk toward the bed instead of sitting in the chair across from her. There, he dropped to lie back until he finally lifted to sit upright; Morrigan still stared at the fireplace. A question tinged in his mind, it was giving him a headache but couldn't ask since he knew that she'd simply avoid the answer.

"So quiet Andrus, I figured you'd be a bit more talkative." Morrigan set her tea on the table then shifted herself to face him.

His jaw hurt from how tightly he clenched his teeth together and his heart pounded because she was truly there, "It is hard to find a place to begin for us."

"We met in the Wilds." Morrigan grinned and watched him do so as well.

His smile faded as he looked toward the floor, he placed both his hands on his forehead to rub his temple. The pain of all she caused him pulled at his heart and mind; he couldn't understand why she was there just as much as he missed her. He didn't know to trust her again, he didn't know to stand up and try to kill her, he didn't know what this meant and what to do; it was now and he was not ready. "You do not help to make this life of mine easy."

"Relationships tend to do that, Andrus and ours is a very particular relationship." Morrigan reproved.

He lifted his head to observe her with eyes red from pain. He bit his bottom lip and turned his head from her; Andrus' breaths had become beastlike and a vein pulsated in his neck.

Morrigan stared with no expression.

His voice boomed, "This is one sided! You ask from me over and over again…I compensate and give you what you want but what do I have to show for any of this?"

"Your life."

"My life is void! I live in a shame now! I will be considered nothing more than a flawed mage who did not bring his kind any glory in the end because of you."

"How do you know that I plan evil? It may be blood magic but it does not immediately mean that it is evil. We saved a child in this very castle we sit in now." Morrigan stood and stomped toward the Warden.

"At the cost of a life."

"She did what she could to save her son just as I did what I could to save you!" Morrigan stood over him now, looking down into his gray eyes that she did indeed miss.

He immediately stood to stand over her; their eyes locked and glaring. Andrus placed his finger on forehead and alluded to an old tale his mother told him, "You placed a mark on my forehead."

Morrigan never looked away from him as he did so but she could feel the hurt slip in her heart. She too had heard of the old story of the followers of the Old Gods and the one he spoke of was particularly treacherous.

His hands cupped her face as he drew his forehead to touch hers; his eyes now shifted down to stare at their feet. He couldn't stare into that vermilion; he wanted to blame her just as much as he was guilty but he couldn't do it.

Morrigan's body had tightened in place from the guilt she would never admit to and from the anger she felt with herself. Her eyes lingered on his lips and nearly regretted ever kissing him; her eyes glanced at his body and remembered the times he let her feel him. She never intended for feelings to get involved but they did and they drove this ritual into a realm that would have best been avoided. When his hand left her cheek to rub her stomach; she felt as if she could vomit.

"Andrus," she whispered, "stop."

He pulled away, "You can take the bed."

"No, you haven't healed."

Grabbing the shawl on the bed, he ignored her plea then headed to the chair she sat in earlier. Setting the light blanket there, he glanced at Morrigan who stared back him, "Will you be here for sunrise?"

She looked at the bed behind her then back to him, "Yes."

"We can discuss…Willow." Andrus grabbed a bucket then tossed it contents into the flames to kill the light.

* * *

**Chapter 4**: Willow of the Northern Mountain trails hangs over like a death on the gallows but even then life goes on its complicated passage.

* * *

**A/N**: Hope you all enjoyed it; i went about trying something different with the POV. Night night all! its late x.x.


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